


The Other Side of the Coin

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [59]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Werewolves, Witchcraft, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: This is Gene and Babe's first meeting, rewritten from Gene's POV.Meant as a companion piece to "Something Wicked," "The Truth Can Be Hard to Swallow," and "A Day in the Life."
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Series: What We Do In The Dark [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 23
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I was re-reading their first few chapters together, I realized Babe has NO IDEA what Gene's thinking, so I thought I'd help out ;)  
> Specifically, I will be giving Gene's POV for the first 3 chapters they're in together.

Sweat trickled down the slope of his back and a mosquito buzzed in his ear. Gene waved it away and swiped the sweat off of his forehead before it could drip into his eyes. Squinting, he gazed up at the afternoon sky. The sun was still too bright, the day too hot, but he had things he had to do. He picked his way through the grasping roots, his boots squelching in the thick mud. “Saw it out here the other day,” Gene mumbled to himself, eyes scouring the underbrush for the white rose mallow blossoms he needed for a host of medicines he wanted to stock up on before the weather changed. He slapped at a mosquito on his neck and cursed when he realized he had mud on his fingers. He swiped his hand against his jeans and paused, mid-step, when he felt a low buzzing in his belly. He dropped his foot and stood straighter, his attention now directed back toward the house. Someone had just crossed the ward-line.

When Gene emerged from the tangled vines and grasping branches of the swamp, he found a slightly battered, beige Toyota Corolla sitting in his drive. As he approached, he could discern a skinny redheaded man sitting in the driver’s seat, still gripping the wheel, though the engine was off. The man didn’t seem to notice his approach, so when Gene reached the car, he quirked a brow, curious, and rapped his knuckles against the window.

The man turned and his brown eyes widened, comically. He stared at Gene for a moment ( _scared?_ ) and then he mumbled “Shit,” and popped the door open, clumsily unfolding his lanky frame from the driver’s seat. 

Gene took a step back out of range of the opening door and asked “Who are you?”

The wide-eyed young man ( _because he was definitely at least a few years younger than Gene_ ) gulped nervously ( _Gene could_ feel _the energy and anxiety just rolling off of this boy_ ) and held out a hand. “My name is Babe.” He squawked. Cleared his throat. “Babe Heffron.” He chuckled nervously. “I’m here on behalf of Bill Guarnere.” _(Well, that explained a few things.)_ “Sorry, but some locals gave me directions—I’m looking for someone who calls himself The Doc.”

_The Doc._ It sounded so authoritative on this boy’s tongue. It was obvious this _Babe_ had no idea that Gene was The Doc, but regardless, he was nervous as hell. Gene did his best to hold back a smile, so as not to embarrass the guy. So, Bill Guarnere had sent him. Part of the Pack? His ward had signaled _human,_ but there was really only one way to be sure about these things. Gene leaned forward into Babe’s space and sniffed. “Hmmm,” Gene mused, eyeing the young man, “you ain’t a dog, but you sho smell like one.” Just a human, like Gene had directed Bill the last time they’d spoken. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded toward his house. “Come on, then.” The sooner he could finish this business, the sooner he could get back to the list of chores he still hadn’t finished.

Babe, still very obviously nervous ( _and obviously confused_ ) followed Gene closely. “Okay…are you taking me to see The Doc?” His voice was thick with the Philadelphia accent and had a slight nasal quality to it. _Could be funny_ or _annoying_ , Gene thought.

Ignoring his question, Gene asked one much more important. As harmless as this boy looked, Gene had a rule about letting people into his home. “What’s yo Christian name? It’s hard to believe it’s Babe.” Even the _feel_ of that name felt strange on Gene’s lips. _Babe._ It felt too sweet, too soft, too intimate. It was the name for a sweetheart, not…this tall, lanky kid from Philadelphia.

Babe followed close at Gene’s heels, almost like a curious, nervous puppy, as Gene led him into the house. “Uh…it’s Edward,” he said, looking around in poorly concealed wonder. “But only the nuns call me that.”

“Edward.” Gene tasted this name and yeah, that was much better. “That’s a good name.” He turned to scan the man’s face again, to map the name to the face, the form. Here, in the close space of his home, with Edward looking so guileless and eager, despite his palpable trepidation, he reminded Gene of a puppy. _I wonder if he’s always like this._ “I have good news and bad news for you, Edward. Which do you want first?”

Edward frowned, his lower lip going slightly pouty. “Bad first.”

“Alright. The bad news is I don’t have the package ready fo’ you yet.”

A slight wince. “And the good news?”

Gene smirked. “I’m workin’ on it.”

“Okay. Alright, so…what does that mean?” _He took that setback well._

Gene shrugged. “It means you can come back for it when it’s done, or you can stay here and wait. Either don’t bother me.”

“Okay. How long?” _Pretty easy-going._

Gene offered him another shrug, quickly calculating how long it’d take him to process the materials and mix them properly. “A day or two, probably.”

“What?!” Edward yelped and _there it is,_ Gene thought, _I knew it couldn’t be_ that _easy._ “But…I thought it was…pressing? And I don’t have anywhere to sleep!”

Gene frowned at him, but he felt better equipped to deal with this first show of temper—or was it simply anxiety again? No matter. _Not my problem._ “ _Pressing_ is all a matter of perspective,” Gene lectured. “Everyone who comes to see me has pressing business. But some’s _mo’ pressin’_ than others.”

“Wait a second. So… _you’re_ The Doc?!” Edward blurted.

Gene didn’t know whether or not he should be offended at the tone. It was obvious Edward had stumbled his way here without all of the information and as annoyed by that as Gene was, his curiosity had also been piqued. If not him, then who had Edward imagined The Doc would be? Covering over the pang of frustration ( _disappointment_ ), Gene quirked a brow. “I am.” He shook his head, ceding to the frustration. “Did they tell you nothin’?” _Damn Bill Guarnere._

“No,” Edward muttered, sounding frustrated himself, and Gene felt a sudden sympathy for him. “They didn’t.”

Gene hummed, thinking of what he knew of the werewolf and his rather shady business dealings (which Gene was determined to ignore for the sake of a greater good.) “Well, I suppose that might suit them.” He wondered what this young man was to him, since Bill had kept him in the dark. A business associate? An employee? Some kid from the neighborhood?

Standing there, tall and awkward in Gene’s living room, Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders slightly. _Wrong-footed._ “So, uh…what should I do in the meantime?”

Right. “Like I said, you can go get yo’self some place to sleep, or you can stay here and make yo’self useful. Doesn’t matter to me.” _Mostly._

Eyes wide again, Edward cleared his throat and said “I’ll stay, and uh, help, I guess. Doc.” He added hurriedly.

Gene felt a strange sensation curl in his belly then settle there. It was tinged with a satisfaction over the acknowledged title and deference ( _distance, you mean_ ) but also an immediate rejection of it. The man was scared ( _Of Gene? Of being thrown out? Of not getting back in time? Of everything he obviously didn’t know?_ ) and Gene couldn’t bring himself to add to that fear, not for a single moment more. He fiddled with a jar on the mantle for a moment, steeling himself for the offer he was about to make. “Call me Gene.”

Behind him, Edward released a long, slow breath, and the intensity of the room relaxed. “Alright. Gene.” A shiver went up Gene’s spine at the sound of his name in Edward’s mouth. _Names have power,_ he reminded himself, _and you just offered that boy some power over you._ (No—Edward wouldn’t realize the significance. Gene was sure of it.) Gene busied himself with the bottles of ingredients he’d labeled some time ago—they were fading. “So, uh…what kind of doctor are you, exactly?” Edward asked.

_Here it is._ “I’m a…specialist…of a kind.”

“Specialist. Huh.” Edward muttered. _He doesn’t know. It’s obvious he doesn’t. (He does now.) Doesn’t matter. Can’t change it. His reaction ain’t my responsibility._ “So, uh…you said to make myself useful. Anything I can help with?”

A wave of _something_ washed through Gene and he felt his own shoulders relax. “You see that bunch of purple flowers to your left?”

“Yeah?”

“Grab those and a mortar and pestle and start grindin’ ‘em to a powder.”

“Sure. I can do that.” Satisfied that they were back on the right foot again, back to business, Gene continued what he was doing. A moment later, though, Edward interrupted him, asking “Can you point out a mortar and pestle? I don’t really know what they are.”

Gene turned back to the man and noticed the slight blush high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. _Really out of his element, isn’t he?_ Despite his obvious unease, he was trying, and Gene could respect that. So, without comment, Gene retrieved the tools and handed them to the redhead. “It has to be a powder.” He reminded him.

“Sure.” Edward nodded then sat himself at Gene’s coffee table and began to work.

Once Gene was sure the young man wasn’t going to run out on him, he gathered the supplies he needed for the werewolves’ medicine and seated himself across the table from Edward. Gene watched him surreptitiously from under his fringe of dark hair. Edward’s tongue poked between his teeth just slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he crushed the aconite into powder. Gene looked away just as the man was finishing. 

“All done.” He announced, sitting back from his work. “Is this okay?”

Gene gave the powder a cursory look. “That’s good.” Edward beamed and Gene had to look away.

“What else can I help with?”

Gene scanned the coffee table then picked up a jar of rose mallow petals. “Count out exactly sixteen of these, then put ‘em in the bowl.”

“Alright.” Edward didn’t even question him.

They worked quietly for a while, and every so often, Gene felt the weight of the other man’s gaze on his bowed head, but he pretended not to notice. “So, uh, Gene…do you often let strange guys into your home and put ‘em to work?” The question was playful ( _flirtatious, more like)_ , but Gene knew he couldn’t entertain the tone.

His lips quirked a fraction to humor the guy. “Often enough.” It was true—plenty of people sought his help, and more often than not, that required Gene putting them to work while he attended to more pressin’ matters. 

The playful smirk fell from Edward’s face and was replaced, strangely, by a look of concern. “Don’t you, uh…think that’s dangerous?”

Gene almost snorted, but kept himself in check. _No, Bill didn’t tell you a thing about me, did he?_ “No.” Gene shrugged. “I’m safe enough here. No one who steps foot into my home means me any harm.”

Edward’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “That’s a very sunny way of looking at people.” He remarked doubtfully.

Gene chuckled. “Maybe. But people only seek me out when they need my help. Doesn’t help them if they hurt me. Plus, the bad types never _can_ seem to find their way here.”

Edward frowned at him, but then his face cleared again and he asked “So, uh…how long have you known Bill?”

Gene plucked the leaves off a thistle. “A few years now. Ever since he and the rest of the Philly pack asked for my help.” He would’ve said more, but suddenly his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. 

Gene sighed, rising to his feet so he could answer it. Standing in his kitchen, he propped a hip against the partition wall. “Hello?”

“Hey, Doc, how goes it in the swamp?”

“Harry.” Gene smiled slightly. “It’s been a while. What do you need this time?”

“Look, I’m sure you’re busy, but I need a favor. I have a couple of my best hunters who need a ward. They think they’ve got a demon on their tail. Can you help?”

Gene sighed and ran a hand down his face wearily. He had so many things that needed to get done, always did, and never enough time. But demons…. “Yeah, okay. Give me a bit and I’ll call you back, alright?” 

“Sure thing, Doc.”

Gene replaced the phone, growling _“Merde._ ” He met Edward’s eyes—the young man was looking at him curiously—and figured the guy might sympathize. “Goddamn demons.”

Edward blinked at him owlishly, and neither of them moved. And then, almost as if Gene had just thrown water in his face, Edward sputtered “ _What?!”_ He looked incredulous, almost funny with his big brown eyes and mouth hanging open like that. “What the hell do you mean, _demons?!_ ”

Gene frowned at the young man, suddenly unsure whether Edward was as intelligent as he’d assumed. Maybe he’d misheard? Or maybe he was rightfully afraid of them? Gene cleared his throat, to make sure he was heard correctly this time. “I mean demons.” He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair and brusquely explained “Your package will have to wait. This is more urgent.” _Goddamn demons._ Immediately, Gene’s mind went back to New Orleans, back to that alleyway where he’d almost…. Well. He’d learned a lot since then, about demons and wards and all sorts of things. Mind sorting through options, Gene went to his bookshelf and pulled out a book of protection spells he and his family had compiled over the years. He knew what he was looking for, it was somewhere around here….

“So, uh….” Edward cleared his throat to get Gene’s attention. “Demons, huh? What are you gonna do about those?”

Gene frowned down at the book, eyes scanning for the spell he needed. “Not much you can do, really,” he answered absently. He flipped a page and found what he was looking for. “Can’t kill ‘em. Least, not normally. All you can do, most times, is send ‘em back to Hell.” He explained casually, figuring that Edward probably knew the basics, at least, living amongst wolves. “But these hunters need a ward.” He glanced up at the young man and met his eyes, hoping Edward would understand why he’d have to wait a bit longer. “I just gotta check the wordin’ here. It wasn’t made for them, so I gotta tweak it.”

Edward looked as confused as he had when he’d first arrived. His dark cinnamon brows were pulled down in a frown. “Ward?”

Gene huffed. “Yeah, you know. To keep things out.” He cocked his head, studying the boy. “Ain’t you heard of a ward before?”

“No!” Edward shouted, leaping to his feet. Suddenly, the room rolled with fear and confusion, and the friendly brown eyes regarded Gene distrustfully. “Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?” He demanded.

With Edward’s feelings of fear, confusion, and helplessness nearly choking Gene, he ran back through everything the man had said since he’d arrived. Every strange comment he’d made, his ignorance of Gene’s identity, each frown when Gene spoke of things Edward should’ve known. It suddenly all made sense. Edward didn’t know anything at all. He felt a flash of anger and frustration burn through him, but he leashed it, for Edward’s sake. “I’m gonna kill Bill Guarnere,” Gene growled. “You really don’t know anythin’, do ya?” He asked Edward, taking a step closer. “He sent you out here without tellin’ you anythin’ at all, didn’t he?”

Edward twisted his hands together in front of him, a nervous tick he’d exhibited at least twice already. “He just said I was supposed to pick up a package from you!” His voice had gotten defensive, the edge a little shrill.

Gene folded his arms and sent up a quick prayer for patience. “What _is_ the package?” He nearly pleaded “Please tell me you know that.”

Edward shifted on his feet, and his lips pressed together, as if he didn’t want to say. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I mean…some kind of drugs, right? Like…you’re some sort of premium dealer or somethin’?”

A flash of rage, maybe even a little hatred burned through Gene at the insulting accusation. “Drugs? Me?” He brushed the words away, disgusted. “No.” He clarified, defending himself to this…this _kid_. “It’s medicine. For yo’ whole pack. Because they _asked me._ ”

Edward folded his arms, mirroring Gene’s stubborn pose. He jutted his chin defiantly. “Pack. You keep using that word. What do you even mean by that?”

_No. You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me._ Gene strode across the room until he was right up in Edward’s space. He kept himself from reaching out and yanking the man forward, but just barely. He sniffed. “You smell just like ‘em.” Gene muttered, so utterly confused now. What in the world was happening? “Don’t you know your people are wolves?” He asked, a note of pleading entering his voice. _Please just say yes. Please say you misunderstood._

“Wolves? What the fuck?” Edward snapped angrily.

_Lord, give me strength._ “Werewolves,” Gene said steadily, hoping not to spook the man. How could he make it any clearer? How did one break news like this? _And how is it even possible that I have to?_ “The Philly pack are werewolves.”

“Werewolves! Oh my God, you’re insane!” Edward shouted, stepping back. Gene felt the words like a slap but he simply tightened his jaw and held his ground. It wasn’t the first time. “What am I, then?” Edward demanded hysterically. “ _What are you?”_ The words were another, more pointed accusation. “Some crazy voodoo witch doctor?”

All of Gene’s anger morphed, suddenly, into hurt, then began to crystallize into a practiced indifference. He wanted to withdraw, end the conversation. But he knew he couldn’t. Edward was hurting worse than Gene and he needed the truth right now. So instead, Gene gathered his patience and his sympathy. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like, not knowing. “You?” Gene shook his head, but didn’t try to approach. “Yo’ just a human, Edward. A human who’s apparently been lied to fo’ a long time.”

“And you?” Edward practically screeched, “Answer me. What are you?”

Gene stared at Edward through the gloom of the darkening room. _Do you really wanna know?_ Gene shrugged, feeling just as helpless as Edward. “I’m just a guy who’s tryin’ ta help.”

“No. This is insane.” Edward shook his head, as if to knock the thoughts away. “Crazy!” He stumbled back, away from Gene, and nearly tripped over the coffee table. Panicking and wild-eyed, he fled, bolting past Gene and wrenching the door open. 

“Shit,” Gene hissed, following after him. _He’s panicked. He’s a danger to himself._ Outside, Gene found him trembling with fear and adrenaline in his drive, staring about, lost. Desperate not to spook him any further, Gene kept his distance, leaning against the porch railing so he could keep an eye on Edward without crowding. 

At the edge of the clearing, glowing eyes blinked out of the gloom: gators and snakes, maybe even creatures and a spirit or two. They waited, hungry, and eager for easy prey. “Oh, God,” Edward gasped, backing toward the porch a step. He cast his eyes this way and that, searching for safety, searching for an escape. 

Gene wanted to give him one. “They can’t get to you here,” he murmured soothingly. Edward turned to stare at him, face pale. “Come back inside, Edward,” Gene coaxed. “And I’ll do my best to explain some things.” Because from what Gene had just witnessed, it was about time somebody did.

Edward shuddered and his palpable fear scraped against every single one of Gene’s instincts to protect. Edward clutched his left wrist in his right hand and _twisted,_ so tight, Gene could imagine the bruise. Still, he stood calmly and kept his face neutral. Edward’s voice croaked and he sounded lost, like he was looking for a singular lifeline when he said “I need to call Bill.” 

“That’s fine,” Gene said, acceding to his terms. “I’ll let you use my phone.” He held out a hand to the young man. “Come on,” he coaxed, voice still honest and soothing. “There ain’t nothin’ fo’ you out here.”

Edward shivered, but he nodded, taking a step back toward the porch. “Alright.” He muttered. He refused Gene’s hand, but he allowed Gene to usher him back into the safety of the house. Inside, Gene shut the door softly behind himself and flicked the light on. 

Standing, lost and confused in Gene’s living room, Edward wrapped his arms tight around his body, hugging himself. “I need to call Bill,” he muttered, more subdued than a few moments before.

Gene nodded, pulling the phone from its cradle at the edge of the kitchen. “Here,” he offered, extending it as far as the cord would go. Edward approached him warily and took the phone from his hand. Gene watched as the young man pressed his back against the wall and, still keeping his eyes on Gene, dialed Bill’s number.

_I should be used to this,_ Gene thought as he retreated to the other side of the kitchen and leaned casually back against the wall, so as to be less threatening. _He ain’t the first to be afraid of me, and he won’t be the last._ But why was he afraid? Because of what Gene was, or because he thought Gene was lying to him?

Eyes fixed on Gene’s, Edward spoke into the phone. “Bill.” The pale skin of his throat bobbed. “Bill, I’m having a crazy day. I’m dreaming, I think. Gene said the craziest thing, Bill. He said you’re a werewolf.” A hysterical laugh burst from his mouth and he sounded slightly unhinged, desperate. Still, his big brown eyes held Gene captive. “He said the guys in the neighborhood are werewolves. Isn’t that insane?! Bill, why didn’t you tell me that this guy was crazy?” _Bill hadn’t bothered to tell Edward anything._

As Edward took a breath, obviously listening, Gene felt his heart clench for the young man. _The world, as he thinks it exists, is about to come to an end._ Gene knew what that felt like, and he’d never wish it on anyone.

“Did you hear what I said?!” Edward shouted, increasingly desperate. _He don’t understand,_ Gene lamented, _he’s holding onto what he knows as tight as he can._ “Werewolves, Bill! Crazy, right?” The hitch of a sob had edged into his voice. “That’s what I’m sayin’, Bill! This guy is crazy.” Gene let the words flow over him, letting them go. _He doesn’t mean it anymore, but he’s hoping it’s still true. ‘Cuz if it’s not…._ “What?” Edward choked, sounding like he’d been punched. His fingers trembled where they gripped the phone. “What do you mean?” His voice wavered and Gene could hear the tears at the back of the man’s throat. _It hurts so much, just to watch it. Ain’t anything I can do to stop this hurt, though. It has to happen._ “How the fuck would I know that, huh, Bill?!” _One last, desperate swipe to defend himself._ Hot tears welled in Edward’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “I thought you all were _wiseguys,_ Bill. Fuckin’ mafia! Not werewolves!” The words came out as a hurt snarl. He gulped. “And this package? What is it?” He was speaking to Bill, Gene knew that, but his eyes were still fixed on Gene’s, as if looking into him as well, demanding answers, accusing _Gene_ of causing this pain. _I’d never,_ Gene thought to himself. _Never hurt. Not ever._ It took everything in Gene to stay on his side of the kitchen and not go to him. Suddenly, Edward’s tense shoulders slumped and his voice wobbled. Another hot wave of tears spilled down his cheeks and he sounded like he was eight years old when he whispered, finally accepting, “You sent me here alone.” He sounded so lost, confused, heartbroken. _Wrecked._ Gene felt compelled to comfort him, to wrap this stranger in his arms and hold him and tell him _You’re not alone. None of us are. Not really._ The scene was breaking his heart. Edward snorted and his voice was watery when he said “You trust me more than anyone, huh, Bill? You’ve been lying to me for my whole goddamn life.” _Not an acquaintance, not an employee. They were close. Very close._ “I gotta go.” Carefully, as if afraid to move, Edward settled the phone back in the cradle. It rang immediately after, but Edward made no move to answer it, and Gene knew that he couldn’t speak to Bill Guarnere right now without saying some very regrettable things. So he kept to his side of the kitchen and held Edward’s gaze. Tears continued to trail down his cheeks and drip off of his chin. His light brown eyes were now red-rimmed and hollow. 

“I’m sorry,” Gene said, because he couldn’t say _What can I do to make it betta’? I know what it feels like to lose something so important. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’m sorry your friend lied to you. Please stop crying, it hurts to watch you suffer._

Edward nodded mutely and slid down the wall, collapsing into himself. He pulled his knees to his chest, bowed his head, and sobbed. 

“Damnit,” Gene murmured, and suddenly he was free to move again. He took a couple steps toward Edward, reaching, but stopped himself. _He ain’t ready for that. Do what you can._ Gene strode to the counter, keeping one eye on Edward, as he plucked a ceramic mug from the cupboard and then filled his teapot to boil water. The young man was a shuddering, sniffling mess, hunched in on himself so that he was just a little ball of anguish on Gene’s kitchen floor. Gene crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from reaching out again, and instead, he just watched, wondering if anything he could offer would be good enough. Eventually, the water boiled and Gene poured it into the mug with a sachet of soothing herbs. They’d calm Edward down and make him want to sleep. That was best, after a shock like he’d had. Eight minutes, for this one to steep properly. Gene held the mug in his hands as the herbs did their work, and he curled his fingers around the warm ceramic, praying _Lord, ease his burden. It’s a hard thing, learning the truth._ After eight minutes, Gene plucked the sachet from the steaming water and added a dollop of honey to help it go down easier. Holding the mug close, Gene approached Edward warily, like he would a hurting, spooked animal. He crouched in front of the young man (who didn’t even seem to notice he’d gotten near) and laid his hand on a quivering shoulder. Slowly, weighed down by grief and exhaustion, Edward looked up at him with red, teary eyes that seemed to beg Gene to do something, anything, to end this nightmare. Gene held out the tea. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Edward nodded and took the mug from Gene’s fingers. He took a tentative sip, then another. He gazed at Gene over the rim. Sensing that he’d perhaps cried himself out, Gene decided to take a chance. He sat himself down in front of the man, close enough so Edward knew he wasn’t alone, but not crowding. “Thanks,” Edward murmured, sniffing. 

“’Course.” Gene nodded. He resisted the urge to fiddle with his hands. 

“It’s crazy,” Edward muttered. “All of this is crazy. My best friend…all of my friends. Everyone I know…they all lied to me.” He blinked for a moment. “You’re the only one who told me the truth.” His eyes held Gene’s, and it was heartbreaking, what he saw there. _I’m a stranger,_ Gene thought, _we’re strangers. But we’re here._ Gene didn’t know what he could possibly say to this man to make it any better. Yes, his people had lied to him. Probably about a lot. What might’ve happened to him, if he’d never come to Louisiana? Gene knew _he_ wasn’t really responsible for the hurt and the tears, but still, he wanted to make it better. “I don’t know what to say to them,” Edward continued. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just go back there, now.” He took another sip of the tea and his shoulders began to relax. “I just…I feel so stupid.”

_Damn Bill Guarnere for this._ “You’re a trustin’ soul,” Gene murmured soothingly. “Ain’t no shame in that.” _It’s hard to be trusting, in a world like this._ Gene sighed, wondering what in the world he was going to do with this man. “You drink that up, and I’ll make up the couch fo’ you.” He ordered, and wondered whether Edward would accept it. “You’ll feel betta after you’ve slept.” As Gene stood, Edward reached out, suddenly, and grabbed his hand. A wave of _something_ rolled through Gene and he stared down at the young man, wide-eyed. Edward stared back, shocked. He held Gene’s hand for a moment and Gene had to hold back the shudder at how nice it felt, just to have someone touch him with kindness. It’d been a long time. “Thanks, Gene. Really. You have no reason to be this nice to me.” Edward’s voice was soft and it tugged at Gene’s heartstrings. _I only just met you. Look what you’re doin’ to me._

Despite himself, Gene couldn’t help tracing his thumb over the soft, warm skin of Edward’s hand where it clasped his before he reluctantly released it. “It don’t cost anythin’ to be kind, Edward. Come on,” Gene guided, “let’s get you settled.”

As Edward drained the rest of the tea, Gene piled his couch with a couple spare pillows and some of the quilts his grandmother had made. Edward made his way to the couch slowly, still holding himself like he was afraid he might fall apart if he didn’t. But the shock, tears, and tea had done their work. He was obviously exhausted. He was still looking up at Gene with his big, brown eyes, full of gratefulness and exhaustion, when they flickered once, twice, and then Edward was asleep.

Gene stepped away from the couch and ran his own trembling hand through his hair. His day had been an emotional roller coaster from start to finish, since the moment Edward Heffron showed up. He cast his eyes across his living room, which was still strewn with flowers and powders, leaves and bottles, and knew he’d have to get back to it. But he couldn’t bring himself to either work or clean right now. So, quietly, he retreated back into his kitchen and he made himself a cup of coffee. At the table, he sat and thought about everything that had happened.

The tinge of Edward’s fear still gnawed at Gene. It wasn’t new—people had feared him for most of his life—but it still hurt, and Gene hated it. Most folks around here, they feared Gene ‘cause of what he could do, or at least, what they thought he could do. Edward, though…Edward was different. He hadn’t known who or what Gene really was when he’d arrived. So why had he been afraid? Was it just nerves? It hadn’t stopped him from coming into Gene’s home and sitting down at his table and working with him. It hadn’t stopped the first flirtatious thing he’d said, either. In fact…the worst of the fear had come after the phone call with Harry. Edward had accused: _Insane. Crazy. Voodoo witch doctor._ Looking back now at what had transpired, Gene himself felt confused. Edward seemed to have feared him the most when he thought Gene was making things up. He supposed it _was_ natural to fear a person like that. And yet…when he’d learned the truth, much of that fear had abated. _Probably because he had bigger problems then. And he was exhausted. Didn’t have anythin’ to do with you._ And maybe that was true. Or maybe it wasn’t. Edward had reached out for him, taken his hand, and his eyes had begged to be reassured that he wasn’t alone. 

Gene supposed there was no real way to tell until Edward had rested and had been given time to process. _We’ll see how he feels in the mornin’,_ Gene thought, as he sipped at his coffee and nibbled a biscuit. 

He knew he was unlikely to sleep much so he crept quietly back into the living room and dimmed the lights—he didn’t need much to work by. He settled himself on the floor at his coffee table and began to work on the ward once more, because demons were serious business. 

As he worked, he kept an eye on Edward, whose face had relaxed in his sleep. Like this, it became even more obvious how young he was. And while some might call him naïve, Gene didn’t think it _was_ naïve to trust your friends. _We’ve all been made fools of, if so._ No, Edward wasn’t naïve. Just young. And perhaps too trusting _(case in point—he’s sleepin’ on my couch and he just met me)_ but Gene wasn’t gonna hold it against him. 

Edward began to snore as Gene worked and he couldn’t help the amused smirk. It was sort of cute, in an awkward puppy kind of way. And that’s sort of what Edward reminded Gene of. A big, awkward puppy. Gene didn’t mind it, though, the snoring. It’d been a long time since he’d had company like this. The house didn’t feel quite so heavy tonight.

Once Gene fixed the wording, the ward was easy, so he gave Harry a call back, murmuring quietly so as not to wake Edward. 

“What’re you whispering for, Doc?” Harry laughed, as Gene relayed the instructions.

Gene frowned into the phone, and hoped Harry could hear it as he muttered “None a’ your business, Welsh.”

Harry was still laughing when Gene hung up on him. 

The night passed slowly. Gene was afraid to go lay in his bed, because what if Edward woke up in the middle of the night, confused, or scared again? He might panic and try to leave the house in the dark. And though Edward might not fully realize, Gene knew what sorts of things waited for him out there. So instead, Gene pulled a pillow off his bed, threw it on the living room floor, and lay down for a bit, with his hands folded behind his head, contemplating the strangeness of his life.

It was Harry ( _goddamnit, again?!)_ that woke him. Bleary eyed, he leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen to grab the phone before it could ring for a third time and wake Edward. “What?” Gene growled.

“Doc. It’s me again.”

Gene sighed. “What do you need, Harry?”

“You’re gonna hate me.”

Gene squinted at the clock. “It’s 4am, Harry. I already hate you. What is it?”

Harry chuckled. “I had a request in regards to the ward. The hunters want to know if it’s possible to create an exception in its protection.”

“What kind of exception?” Gene asked, already knowing he’d hate the answer.

“Vampire.”

It was 4am, Gene was exhausted, and he had a lanky redhead from Philadelphia passed out on his couch. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve eva heard of.” He drawled. 

Harry sighed. “That’s what I said, too. But they insisted. Can you do it?”

Gene snorted. “’Course I can. I’ll call you when it’s finished. Wake _you_ up.”

Again, he hung up to the sound of Harry Welsh laughing at him. 

Resigned that his brief nap was over, Gene hauled his pillow back to his room then got to work. Whoever these hunters were, Gene hoped they knew what the hell they were doin’, because he seriously had his doubts. _Exception for a vampire._ He snorted, shaking his head. “Stupid.”

Gene sat in the middle of his living room, books and plants spread out before him, bathed in the early morning sunlight, when Edward finally stirred. He sat up and stretched his long, pale arms over his head as he yawned. _It’s not cute._ Still, Gene offered him a friendly smile. “Mornin’, Edward. How’d ya sleep?”

“Deep,” Edward yawned again. He ran a hand over his pale, freckled face. “That tea really did the trick.”

“Usually does.” Gene replied. On the couch, Edward pulled his legs back up to his chest and folded his arms across his knees and Gene looked away, focusing on his work once more.

“What are you workin’ on?” Edward asked curiously.

Gene waved vaguely, exhausted. “Ward again.”

“Again?”

Gene hummed. “Yeah. Finished it a few hours ago. But then befo’ you woke up, they called back askin’ for somethin’ else.”

Gene flicked his eyes up to the other man to find him frowning. “Somethin’ else? Like what?”

Gene snorted, shaking his head. “Exception fo’ a vampire.” He met Edward’s eyes, briefly, curious what his reaction would be. “I told Harry that was the stupidest thing I ever heard, but he insisted.” Gene indicated his books. “So now I’m tryin’ to write them a spell that’ll keep everythin’ except for one specific vampire out.” He huffed. “Damn fools.”

Edward watched him quietly, brown eyes simply following Gene’s movements. It was quiet. Peaceful. But the air was heavy with Gene’s anticipation. Finally, Edward cleared his throat and asked “So this is what you do, huh?

Gene nodded, once. “This is what I do.” _Here it goes._

“You make…medicines and…spells…for people?”

“Sometimes.” _Amongst other things._

Edward glanced around, studying Gene’s living room again. “Are you a witch?”

Gene glanced up at the other man. “No.” _Witch. Witch. Witch._ “I’m not a witch. I’m a _doctor_.” Gene emphasized. “I fix things. I help people. I _protect_ people.” He insisted.

Edward nodded and waved toward Gene’s current project. “Isn’t that…magic, though?”

Gene shrugged. _What the hell._ “Some people call it that.”

“And you?” Edward tilted his head. His eyes were soft, curious.

Gene glanced away from him. “I don’t know. I’ve always been like this. And my ma befo’ me, and hers befo’ her.” He’d leave now, Gene knew. If he understood anything Gene had just told him, he’d leave. Gene shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. “It ain’t me, though, Edward. It’s a gift from God.”

“And so you help people with it. This gift.”

“I do.”

“And what do you get out of it? Do you sell these things?”

“No. It ain’t right to take payment. It ain’t right. Not everyone who needs help can pay fo’ it. Don’t mean they don’t need the help.” _One of the first lessons of healing he’d ever learned._ He fiddled with a stack of instructions. “And it ain’t my gift to sell, like I said.”

“So you do all this work for free?”

Gene shook his head. “The neighbors help me with other things when I need it.” _Sometimes._

“Wow,” Edward mused. “You sure are somethin’ else, Gene.”

Gene had to fight off a blush as he glanced up at Edward and saw the look of admiration and respect in his eyes. _Not a trace of fear._ Gene’s heart kicked strangely in his chest. And, despite himself, he allowed himself a hint of a smile to match the other man’s. “You too, Edward.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gene cleared his throat and pushed his books away. “You must be hungry.” Edward hadn’t eaten a thing since he’d arrived at Gene’s the day before, and aside from the tea Gene had given him, he hadn’t had anything to drink either. 

As if agreeing with the assessment, Edward’s stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. He blushed and wrapped his arms around his belly. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Guess I am.”

“Come on, then,” Gene said, standing and offering his hand to the redhead. “I’ll fix you something.” Shyly, but with only the slightest hesitation, Edward clasped Gene’s hand and allowed Gene to lever him up from the couch. Standing, Edward was taller than him by a few inches—just one of the details that Gene hadn’t paid much attention to the day before. Just like how, close up, in the morning light, Gene could tell that Edward’s eyes were really hazel, not the light brown he’d guessed at the day before. When he realized he’d been staring, Gene released Edward’s hand and led him the short distance to the kitchen. 

“Take a seat, Edward,” Gene waved a hand at his small kitchen table as he began rummaging in the ancient fridge for eggs. The Bautista family had dropped them off in thanks a few days ago. They’d do nicely, with some toast. The kitchen was quiet with the exception of Edward’s nervous tapping on the table top while Gene bustled around the familiar space, frying up eggs, toasting bread, and sliding everything onto plates. Edward gazed up at him in grateful wonder as he set the dish before him. “You drink coffee?” He’d had a pot on since Harry had woken him up.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Gene.”

Gene dipped his head. “You’re welcome.” 

They ate quietly (and quickly, in Edward’s case—he practically inhaled the eggs and toast, but thankfully took his time with the hot coffee), but Gene used the time to observe the young man a bit more closely. Yesterday, Edward had been a there-and-gone-again courier who Gene knew very little about, so he hadn’t paid him more attention than what was required for the security of his wards. But today, he wasn’t that, anymore. Today, he was Edward “Babe” Heffron, who’d believed one thing when he walked through Gene’s door and now believed something entirely different. He was Edward, who’d cried on Gene’s kitchen floor last night. He was Edward, who Gene had watched over protectively while he slept. This Edward warranted a closer observation. 

He didn’t chew with his mouth open, but it was a near thing. His table manners were terrible and Gene’s grandmother would’ve been horrified. Edward’s left wrist was ringed in a dark bruise from where he’d squeezed it in his anxiety the night before. Gene’s eyes lingered on the ugly shadow of it for a long time. If Gene were permitted to lay his hands on it, it’d be gone before tonight. But Gene knew it wasn’t his place. Edward was still processing everything he’d learned the night before. The last thing he needed was irrefutable proof of what Gene had told him. At this point, it might do more harm than good. Besides, it would heal on its own. Eventually. 

Gene dragged his eyes away from Edward’s wrist so that he could meet the other man’s eyes. _He’s watching you, too. Wonder what he’s thinkin’._ “Feelin’ betta’?”

Edward nodded as he sat his coffee mug down. “Yeah, a lot. Thanks, Gene.”

Gene nodded. “I’m gonna finish up that ward, now.”

He left Edward sitting at his kitchen table, giving him a little space, but aside from a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, it didn’t take Edward long before he found his way back to the couch where he perched, watching Gene curiously.

Gene tried to focus on the intricate workings of the ward spell, but he kept getting distracted. It wasn’t so much that Edward was intentionally distracting, it was just that every so often, Gene could feel the man’s eyes tracking his movements, lingering on him while he did his work. It was strange, being under a microscope like that. Most of the folks who came through his door already knew what he could do (or at least, they thought they did), and they didn’t care how he made it happen so much as that he did. Edward seemed curious, though. About the work. About Gene. He asked a question here and there, but for the most part he kept his peace, content, apparently, simply to watch. Whenever Gene glanced over to check on the man, Edward would avert his eyes swiftly, but his blush always gave him away. _Lord, give me strength,_ Gene prayed. _He don’t know what he’s doin’. He doesn’t mean it. Don’t matter if he does, anyway. Can’t have it. Neither of us can. He’s goin’ away soon, and we’ll never see each other again._ So Gene did his best to ignore the lingering gazes and the blushes and the sweet, if awkward smiles the young man gave him. And he told his own stuttering heart to cut it out.

After a couple more hours of work and an exhausting conversation with Harry (the man always did his best to get Gene worked up), the ward was done, the instructions sent, and Gene could wash his hands of it. _Stupid hunters,_ Gene thought, shaking his head once more, _to let a vampire walk through their front door._ Not for the first time, Gene wondered at the company Harry kept, but then he put that out of his mind, too. 

It was only midafternoon when Gene felt his eyelids beginning to droop, but he knew he had too much work to do to be able to sleep before dark. And despite the fact that Edward didn’t seem to be a bad sort, Gene wasn’t willing to admit a weakness like that in front of a person he hardly knew. He’d learned, the hard way, that he couldn’t afford such things. 

Instead of giving in to his desire to sleep, Gene gathered together all of the ingredients for the Pack’s medicine and settled down to continue his work. 

“Can I help?” Edward asked from his perch on the couch (he looked like he felt safe there, comfortable.) In his eyes, Gene could see the question, but there was also an apology there. For yesterday. For how he’d acted. For what he’d said. 

Gene nodded. “That’s fine.” He handed Edward a bowl of sage. “That needs to be ground to a powder, too.”

Edward smirked, obviously relieved that Gene had accepted his offer. “Sure. I’m practically an expert with the mortar and pestle now.” And, to his credit, he proceeded without complaint. Once or twice, Gene caught himself staring at the play of muscles in Edward’s arms, or the way a sheen of sweat had appeared at his hairline. _Just tired,_ he told himself, _that’s all._ It was a half-hearted lie.

They worked steadily for a few hours. At one point, Edward had frowned down at all the ingredients and asked “You do all this work for us…I mean, the, uh…the guys…every month?”

“Every two months. The potency don’t last much longer than that.”

Edward whistled. “Still. That’s a lot of work, Gene. And you don’t get anything in return?”

“I do.”

Edward frowned. “What is it?”

“Bill Guarnere’s word.” 

Edward apparently had no comment.

Another time, Edward had paused in his sorting of leaves to look around the living room for a moment before asking “So…you live here all by yourself?”

Gene nodded. “Yep.”

“Do you…? No, you know what, nevamind, not my business.” Edward bit his lip, ears burning red.

“Do I what?”

“Do you like living alone?”

_Sometimes it hurts so goddamn bad. The loneliness is crushing. I miss my family, I miss the sounds of life in this house. I miss knowing I’m not alone._ Gene shrugged. “That’s just how it is.”

Once the sun had set and Edward had also begun to yawn, Gene called it quits and suggested they grab dinner. Having company for a meal was still so foreign for Gene, it hadn’t happened in so long, that he felt ashamed that he was too tired to cook a proper meal. He knew his mother would scold him for what he did next, which was feed Edward a hastily made sandwich because it was the best he could do at the moment. She’d shake her head and tell him that was no way to treat a guest. Which…. Edward _wasn’t really_ a guest, was he? He was here on a mission, acting as a representative of the Philadelphia Werewolf Pack. And yet… _you’re fooling yourself, son,_ he thought wryly, _he is a guest. Or at least, you wish he was one._

Still, Edward didn’t seem to mind the ham sandwich that Gene sat before him. In fact, he complimented Gene’s sandwich making skills like it was more than slapping cheese, meat, and mustard between slices of bread. Gene shrugged it off, but it made him smile nevertheless. 

He’d intended to continue working after dinner, but as he sat at the kitchen table with Edward, fed and watered, exhausted after a long couple days, he felt his eyelids weigh heavy and his mind go foggy. He shifted in his seat and barely managed to cover a yawn. “I ‘pologize, Edward, but I’m not gonna be able to finish that package up tonight. It’ll have to wait ‘til morning. I’m beat.”

Edward waved his apology away, yawning too. “It’s alright, Gene. You’ve been really busy.”

“I’m gonna have to turn in early. Will you be alright on your own?” 

Edward shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably fall asleep soon—got a lot of things on my mind.” 

_I bet you do._ Gene flashed him a tired smile. “You need anythin’ before I go?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

As Gene readied himself for bed, he could hear Edward puttering around in the living room for a while before the tell-tale groan of the old couch and rustle of blankets. A moment later, the lamp went out.

Nestled in the comfort of his own bed, Gene allowed himself to acknowledge how strange things were at the moment. Not far from his room, a practical stranger who had come for one of Gene’s services slept on his couch. It should be strange. It should be uncomfortable. Gene shouldn’t want him here. And yet. And yet, Gene was man enough to admit that he was just happy, in the simplest of ways, to have Edward here. To lay in his bed and listen to the sound of a relative stranger snore on his couch and know, viscerally, that he wasn’t alone. Tonight, he wasn’t alone. _Better leave those thoughts alone,_ he scolded himself, _that boy is gonna be gone in the morning, as soon as you finish the Pack’s medicine._ And sure, that might be true ( _it is_ ) but for tonight, Edward was here, and Gene fell asleep with a strange ache in his chest.

Gene rose with the sun the next morning, as he usually did, but was surprised to find Edward awake too. Gene made them toast and coffee, which they took silently, both with their own thoughts to occupy them. After, Gene got back to work, determined to finish the project in the next couple hours.

Gene sat back from his work, satisfied, and glanced over at Edward, who was grinding more herbs nearby to occupy himself. Gene cleared his throat. “It’s done. I’ll get this medicine packaged up and yo’ pack will be good for another two months.”

Edward looked up at him from underneath his red fringe, suddenly shy…or maybe nervous. He fidgeted with his hands and Gene caught sight of that hated bruise once more. It’d be such a little thing to fix it…. “Alright. Thanks, Gene. Really. I dunno if the other guys ever tell you that, but I’m sure they appreciate what you do for them.”

No, Gene didn’t usually get thanks for the work that he did. No matter. That’s not why he did it.Gene waved the hidden apology away. “I’m sure they do.”

Edward should’ve looked relieved, but suddenly the room felt small with the anxiety that had crowded in, and Edward’s fingers twisted tighter. “But…uh…I was wondering.” He gulped. Gene watched his pale throat bob. “I mean, it seems like you’re a really busy guy, and I don’t want to impose. But…would you mind if I stayed a couple extra days?” _Wait, what?_ “It’s just…I’ve been thinking about everything you told me, and what Bill told me, and I haven’t quite figured out what to say to him and the other guys when I get back yet. I could help you around here instead, if you want?”

Gene’s mind, usually so agile, had ground to a screeching halt. _Wait…what?_ It was as if a fog had rolled in, and things no longer made a whole lot of sense. _He’s askin’ you to stay, stupid. He don’t wanna go yet._ But why stay with Gene? Edward didn’t have to go home. There were an infinite number of places he could go instead. There was no reason for him to stay here. _And yet, that’s what he asked you for, isn’t it?_

Gene was used to people asking him for things, but it was rarely his company they wanted. This boy, this _man_ sounded like he was asking Gene for one thing, but he wasn’t. He was asking for a whole host of things. _Please let me stay. Please give me a place where I can deal with my pain. Please give me a place to hide from the scary things I can’t yet face. Please tell me I’m gonna be alright._ Edward never had to say the words. His eyes and his nervous hands did all the talking. And when posed with those requests, how could Gene ever, in good conscience, refuse? Somehow, strangely, over the last couple days, Gene had become someone Edward could trust. Ironically, the more he seemed to learn about Gene, the more comfortable he became, a direct inverse of nearly everyone else Gene knew. _Who is this man and how can he be real?_ Gene cleared his throat. “You afraid of the swamp, Edward?”

Edward gave a full body shudder and Gene had to fight to keep his smirk in check. “Not the swamp, really, just…snakes and alligators. And insects.”

_All of which he’d find there._ Still, Edward’s arrival had interrupted Gene’s schedule and there were things that needed to get done before the weather turned. He thought back to the plants he hadn’t managed to find last time. “I’ve got to go gather supplies today. In the swamp. You could come with me.” It was more than a simple offer. _Company, knowledge, a bit of truth about me, if you can stomach it._ He expected Edward to say no. He expected this to be the line the young man wouldn’t cross.

Edward’s shoulders relaxed, he stopped twisting his poor fingers, and he gifted Gene with a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Gene.”

_Lord, help me._ “No problem.”

Gene had traveled these paths more times than he could count—he knew them inside and out, like the back of his hand, with his eyes closed. They were well worn, marked if you knew what to look for, and he’d been treading them for most of his life. It was the same as always—the burble and squelch of water and muck, the hum and buzz of insects, the clawing, tangled branches and roots, an occasional, ominous slither or splash. It was the same as always—except this time Gene was not alone. Edward followed close behind him, trusting Gene to lead him into the depths of the swamp and then safely out again. Gene’s heart beat strangely and he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. _Don’t you think it, Eugene Roe,_ he scolded himself, _put it outta your head. He’s a nice boy, I’ll grant you, but you’d be a damned fool to get attached. You’re never gonna see him again after he leaves here._ And Gene knew that stern, scolding voice in the back of his mind was telling the truth. His rare half-smile disappeared.

“So what were those things I heard the other night? In the swamp?” Edward called, out of breath, from behind him. 

Gene shrugged and sidestepped a branch. He envisioned that night again: _Edward, flushed and panicked, standing in his front drive. Surrounded by the sounds of hissing and scratching. Red and yellow eyes._ Gene only briefly thought to lie—Edward seemed to do much better at handling the truth. “Lots a’ things. Some gators, probably, and maybe a wild cat or two. The Will o’ Wisps like to come ‘round here. But they can’t hurt you by themselves. Jus’ don’t listen to ‘em.”

“Will o’ Wisps?” Edward panted, struggling behind him. “What are those?”

Gene remembered a time when he’d asked the same thing. When he’d been young and afraid. He’d do Edward a service and give him the same advice. “Spirits. They like to lure unwary travelers to the depths of the swamp an’ leave ‘em there. Some of ‘em drown. Some of ‘em starve. Some of ‘em end up as gator food.” _Like I almost did._ Smiling in amused dismay at his memory, he glanced back at Edward to make sure he was okay. “Be cautious at night, Edward. Will o’ wisps can imitate the voices of people you know, to try to get you to follow ‘em. Don’t.” _Whose voice might they choose,_ Gene wondered. _Who else might Edward follow into a swamp?_ Gene felt a strange little chill go down his spine at the idea that they might try to imitate him, that Edward obviously _would_ follow him into the depths. Gene’s stomach turned with worry. “Don’t.” He emphasized.

“Right. Don’t go into the swamp at night, no matter who asks.”

_No matter who._ Gene nodded. “Good.”

“So, uh…what else lurks around here?”

Gene quirked a brow, surprised at Edward’s daring. _Is he really just curious, or is he trying to determine how much he can take?_ “You sure you wanna know?” Knowledge was a thing you couldn’t easily lose. 

But Edward just shrugged and tried to place his foot carefully in the next spot. He sank up to his ankle. With a sigh, he said, “Might as well. I mean, I found out that everyone I know’s been lyin’ to me my whole life. Figure I should start payin’ more attention.”

Gene understood, but he hoped this experience wouldn’t make Edward bitter. “Fair enough. Occasionally a vampire finds its way down here, mostly because of those goddamn novels. But they don’t stay long. They head back to the cities were the feeding’s good, and people don’t go lookin’ for each other.” _Like New Orleans._ Gene glanced back at Edward, considering. “Vampires and werewolves are old adversaries. They don’t tend to show up in the same places, so you’re probably pretty safe with yo’ pack.”

Edward cocked his head, curious. “You don’t like ‘em.”

Gene shrugged noncommittally. “It’s nothin’ personal. All creatures gotta feed on somethin’. But I think a man should be cautious of a creature that’s meant to feed on him.”

Edward chuckled. “Good point.”

“We get a lot of revenants and ghouls down this way. They mostly feed on dead things, so I don’t gotta worry too much, but sometimes they bother people in the parish, and then I get involved.” _And build better wards._ “Keep yo’ eyes open for a white flower…might be a rose mallow. Or any mushrooms. I need more of both a those things.” He’d needed more of them days ago. 

Edward nodded, eyes already scanning. “Okay.” 

Edward tagged after Gene for hours, quietly cursing under his breath as he swatted at mosquitos, batted away twisting vines and Spanish moss, and nearly fell face-first in the mud. Twice. But for all that, he didn’t complain, simply did his best to match his steps to Gene’s, and collected what he was told to look for. Gene was impressed. For a kid who’d never been here before, he showed remarkable fortitude. Or maybe that was just how badly he didn’t want to go home. 

After a few hours of collecting the things Gene had neglected the day Edward arrived, Gene took pity on the sunburnt, mud-streaked redhead and turned them back to the house. Once there, he couldn’t help smiling at the sight that was Edward Heffron: his shoes were caked in mud, his clothes crusted with it and soaked in sweat. His hair was a tangle of sweaty strands and the leaves he’d managed to pick up. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked exhausted. Gene folded his arms and offered “You can use the shower first, Edward. Go get yo’self cleaned up a bit while I start makin’ us some lunch.” The offer was easy to make and yet the words were still difficult to get out. Would Edward do it? He’d slept in Gene’s home and eaten the food Gene had prepared for him. Would he do this other, very vulnerable thing?

“Thanks, Gene.” Edward huffed, glancing down at himself.

“Leave your shoes on the porch. I’ll hose ‘em down.”

While the water pipes rattled, Gene busied himself with throwing together a gumbo. His mama would’ve whacked him for making one so quick (it should cook for hours, if he was doin’ it right), but he felt bad for the paltry things he’d fed Edward so far, and even though it wouldn’t be properly done, it’d still taste good. So Gene cooked up a roux, cut up some meats and vegetables, and set the whole thing to boil by the time Edward came back, looking pink and refreshed. “Make sure the pot don’t boil over,” Gene instructed before he went to take his own shower.

As he washed the sweat and flecks of muck from his body, he tried not to think about Edward, sitting in his kitchen, waiting for him. It’d been so long since Gene had had another person in the house while he did something so mundane as wash himself. Surreal. _Don’t matter. He’ll be leavin’ soon, and then it’ll be back to the way it was before. Don’t kid yo’self._ Right. Gene scrubbed quickly and finished.

Even though it was not his best, by any means, Gene was glad that he’d decided to cook up the gumbo. It was worth it, just to see the faces and hear the noises Edward made while he ate it. “This…this is spicy,” Edward panted, right before he shoved another spoonful of the stew and rice into his mouth. “So hot.” He gulped air, then water, then ate a few more bites. Gene watched him, amused, while he steadily ate his own food. 

“You okay there, Edward? Or you want somethin’ else?”

“No. No, this is good. Just…hot.” He ate some more. “Can’t believe you made this.” He shook his head. “Never had anything like this before.”

His cheeks were almost as red as his hair, and his lips had followed suit. Gene couldn’t help laughing at him (and the sound of his own laugh surprised him.) “Glad you like it, Edward.”

After lunch, they folded themselves onto the floor and began the project of sorting all the herbs and mushrooms they’d collected in the swamp that morning. It was nice…relaxing, and Gene was almost able to forget that it wasn’t normal. But then their peace was shattered by the desperate, broken cries for help from outside his home. 

Gene bolted from the house and leapt down his own porch steps to find the Guidry brothers supporting a third man (pale, eyes glassy, face covered in a cold sweat) between them. “Get ‘im into the house, quick.” Gene ordered. He followed them inside and watched as they gently laid their injured comrade in the middle of Gene’s floor, amidst the spread of flowers and leaves. “Give me space,” Gene ordered, and everyone in the room immediately stepped back. “What happened?” Already, his eyes were scanning his patient and he’d narrowed it down to a couple causes.

“Bit by a cottonmouth” Johnny Guidry said, voice tense with fear.

Gene nodded. Right. He’d figured. “How long ago?”

“’Bout an hour.” _Maybe too long, maybe not. He’s a big man._ “We were huntin’ and it took a while to get back to the truck.”

_Lord, help me to save this man._ “Alright. Stay back.” Gene rolled his shoulders then settled on the floor next to the man who was wheezing and shaking. His eyes were wide with fear (he probably also knew it’d been too long) and his lips had gone pale. He stared up at Gene, eyes pleading. “Shhhh,” Gene murmured, laying a hand on the man’s forehead. “Yo’ gonna be alright.” The man stopped shaking. He blinked up at Gene. “Where’s the bite at?”

“Right ankle.” Johnny pointed.

“Hmmmm,” Gene hummed, as he summoned the spark that lived within him, and prepared for a big healing, “gotta watch out for ‘em ‘specially this time a year. You like the weather, they like the weather.” He didn’t wanna see any of these men back in here for snakebite. Gathering himself, Gene placed his hands on the man’s chest, fingers spread wide, and he began to murmur one of his grandmother’s healing prayers. Immediately, he felt the warmth pulse through him, tingle through his hands, and press into the other man. “That’s right,” Gene murmured softly, as the man trembled underneath him. “Just breathe. Yo’ doin’ good.” The muscles in the man’s chest began to ease, so Gene worked slowly down his belly, tracing the line of venom over the hip, the thigh, down his leg, all the while asking God to take the hurt away and heal this man. Finally, Gene settled his hands on the man’s ankle, where he could feel the _sharp, burning, ice-fire pain_ and he closed his eyes, and began another prayer. _God, make me an instrument of your healing. Help me to save this man. Help me to undo the hurt and the pain. Lord, give me strength._

While he prayed, Gene could _see/feel/hear_ the man’s body straining to heal. He felt the man’s lungs expand. Felt the heart relax and slow. Felt the swelling ease and the venom retract. Back down the body, slithering through the veins, to the point of original contact. Gene helped to concentrate it at the ankle, felt it nip at his hands. Still, he prayed. The hurt tingled against his fingers, crawled up his palms. Gene prayed and God helped him to dissipate it. He prayed. He prayed. And God helped him to heal that man. 

Finally, after a long, long time, Gene sat back, head swimming, exhausted, and he opened his eyes. He gazed down at his patient. “How ya feel?”

“Better.” The man croaked. “I can breathe again. And I don’t feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“Good.” Gene patted the man’s leg then wiped his own shaking hands on his jeans. “It’s gonna be swollen for a day or two.” _Best I could do. An hour. Too long._ “You should rest it and put some ice on it. But you’re gonna be alright, now.” _You’ll live._

“Thank you,” the man gasped as Johnny and Billy Guidry hauled him to his feet. “Thank you, Doc.”

“It’s no bother,” Gene said, leaning on the door frame as the three men made their way slowly back out to their truck. “Take care.” _Hold on. Just another moment more. Hold on._ His head spun and his own body felt heavy now. As the men drove off, Gene shut the door and leaned heavily against it, his body tugging him downward.

“Whoa,” Edward said, rushing toward him, hands hovering a couple inches from Gene’s shoulders, as if afraid to touch, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Gene insisted. His head ached, his body ached. He was exhausted. “Jus’ tired.”

Edward, still hovering, raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Does this always happen after you help someone?”

Gene shrugged. “Most times.”

Edward bit his lip for a second, hazel eyes scanning Gene for injury. “So what do you do? Usually?”

“Sleep.” Gene muttered. He was fading pretty fast. He was surprised he was still on his feet. _An hour had been too long to wait and it’d taken its toll._

“Oh.” Edward frowned, clearly unimpressed with Gene’s answer. “Okay. Do you need help getting’ to bed?”

Gene already felt embarrassed that Edward was seein’ him like this. Most people never did. They left right after the healin’ was done. No one since his mother had passed had ever stuck around to see the price he paid each time. The idea of this man helping Gene to his bed like a sick child was too much to bear. “I can make my own way.” Gene insisted. With the last of his strength, he heaved himself to his feet and shuffled slowly, head reeling, down to his bedroom. As Gene dropped into his bed and hauled a quilt over himself with trembling fingers, he became aware, suddenly, that Edward had followed him. 

“Can I get you anything?” His voice was soft, concerned, and Gene’s already foggy brain tried to make sense of that.

“I’ll be fine, Edward.” Gene muttered, doing his best to sound authoritative and strong.

Edward frowned at him. “Is it always this bad?”

Gene had to hold back a snort. “It’s been much worse.” At least he’d made it to the bed this time, instead of collapsing halfway down the hallway. 

Edward frowned at him harder. “So, who helps you when it gets that bad?” He demanded. Gene had nothing to offer him that didn’t sound pathetic or terrifying, so he kept his mouth shut. Edward got the hint, though, because he swore “ _Godamnit._ Really? No one helps you?”

Gene shrugged, frustrated by Edward’s tone. “I’m a big boy. Can take care o’ myself, Edward.”

Edward crossed his arms and quirked a coppery brow, obviously unimpressed. “Well, you shouldn’t have to,” he snapped. “If I’m hearin’ right, you take care of anyone that comes to you, and you never ask for anything in return. Instead, you deal with the consequences alone. It ain’t right.” Gene was too tired to contradict him. Edward shook his head, more wound up than Gene had seen him since he’d learned that all of his friends were werewolves. “Well, today I’m here and I’m gonna take care of you.” He declared. Gene’s heart kicked weirdly and he had to force himself not to reach up and rub his chest. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it.” Edward said, voice finally settling back to a regular tone. Gene stared at him. He honestly had no idea what to say. Suddenly, Edward snapped his fingers. “Hey, Gene…what was that tea you made for me the other day? Bet that’d make you feel better.” He grinned, obviously pleased with the idea.

Gene sighed, too exhausted to keep up the fight. “You ain’t gonna quit, are you? 

“Nope.”

Gene waved toward the kitchen. “The sachets are already made up. In the yellow jar on the counter, next to the tea pot. Just one, Edward,” he cautioned.

“Right. I’ll be right back.” Edward hustled out of Gene’s doorway and as soon as the man was gone, Gene allowed his eyes to slip closed. He was so exhausted. It was taking all of his energy to stay awake, but he wouldn’t allow himself to collapse in front of the other man. He drifted, until the sound of Edward’s voice woke him. “Here you go,” Edward said, handing over a blessedly warm mug. It smelled heavenly.

“Thank you.” Gene murmured. He took a sip. It was a little strong, but Edward had done alright. The edge of sleep dragged at him.

“Sure.” Edward watched him closely, and Gene tried not to blush. “Hey Gene…when you were helping that guy…what were you sayin’?”

Eyes closed, Gene murmured “I was prayin’ to God to help me take the hurt away.”

“You cured that man, without any medicine.”

“Not me,” Gene said, shaking his head vehemently. It was an old conversation, one Gene had been having since childhood. “Power workin’ through me.” 

“So why does it do this to you, then?” Edward asked from very close.

Gene shrugged loosely and his eyes flickered closed. “Power always comes with a price, Edward,” he sighed. He felt the other man’s fingers against his own, and then the warmth of the tea was gone. Gene couldn’t fight it anymore. He fell asleep.

He woke, just before dawn, like always. Instead of dragging himself out of bed, however, he decided to stay there for a bit. Slowly, what’d happened the day before came back to him. He was still tired, but nothing like before. The sleep had done him good. Food would go a long way too, once Gene got around to it. 

Yesterday, Edward had seen him heal someone. He’d seen evidence of what Gene was that couldn’t be brushed off as talk. After all, until that moment, what had Edward had to go on, besides his own and Bill Guarnere’s word? Edward had asked him if he was a witch, and he wasn’t, but he wasn’t a fool, either. He knew what that healing looked like to an outsider. Hell, he knew what it looked like to the people of this parish. And like them, he fully expected that Edward would see him differently now. That is, if he was still around. Why should he stay? After all, Gene had finished with the Pack’s medicine yesterday morning. And even though Edward hadn’t been ready to return home yet, that had been _before._ Before he knew what Gene was. What he could do. 

And yet…. Well, he hadn’t acted afraid, after the Guidry brothers and their friend had left. If anything, he’d been almost angry, scared…but on Gene’s behalf. Protective? Gene shook his head. _Get it outta your mind, Eugene Roe,_ he scolded himself. _That ain’t nothin’ but wishful thinking._

Gene went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Brushed his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. His eyes were tired, but aside from that, he looked alright. The same old Eugene Roe. He sighed, deciding it was time to face the music.

Bracing himself for the inevitable pang of loss, Gene made his way out to the living room, where he froze, shocked, at the sight of Edward Heffron asleep on his couch, mouth slightly hanging open. He must’ve made some sort of sound, because Edward snorted, grumbling, and jerked himself upright, eyes searching. When they fixed on Gene, he stood, suddenly much too close. “Gene,” he breathed, “are you alright? How do you feel?”

Gene felt himself flush under the scrutiny and he had to look away. “’M alright.” He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t expected Edward to stay and now his heart was doing that strange thing again after finding out he had. 

“You should eat.” Edward advised. He was right.

“Yeah, probably.” Gene agreed. “Come on and I’ll fix us somethin’.”

Edward followed close at his back. “No way. You should sit down and rest. I can get breakfast.”

Gene turned in the middle of his kitchen and frowned at the other man. “You don’t know where anything is.”

Edward blushed. “I’m sure I can figure it out. Seriously, Gene, you should sit.”

Still bemused, Gene obeyed. He watched Edward spin a slow circle, taking the kitchen and its ancient appliances in. Finally, he turned back to Gene. “Well…maybe some toast for now. I know I can manage that.”

Gene smiled at him. “Toast sounds delicious.”

It took a couple hours, but eventually Gene managed to convince Edward that he was alright. Gene didn’t know what it was, but he could feel that something between them had changed. Maybe it had happened when Edward watched him heal that man. Maybe it had happened when Edward watched Gene nearly collapse. He wasn’t sure. All he knew is that Edward looked at him a bit differently, and despite Gene’s best efforts, he couldn’t interpret it. 

Edward stayed for lunch, but by that point even Gene could feel that the other man was stalling. That there was some tension in him that needed resolved. Finally, after he’d eaten, Edward looked up at him and said “I think I should head home now.”

Gene nodded, heart squeezing. “Alright.” He rose from the table. “Let me make up a couple sandwiches for yo’ trip. It’s a long drive.”

He expected Edward to protest, but he didn’t. Instead, the redhead simply watched over Gene’s shoulder as he made the sandwiches. When he was done, Gene turned and presented them in a brown paper bag. “Thanks.” Edward murmured, looking away.

Gene shrugged. “Anytime.”

It didn’t take long for Edward to gather his things. He hadn’t brought much, anyhow. 

After the car was packed with his duffle, the medicine, and the sandwiches, they stood in the drive, a couple feet apart, and stared at each other. “Drive safe.” Gene offered.

“Yeah.” Edward scuffed his shoe in the dirt. “Thanks.” He hitched a smile onto his lips. His hazel eyes were bright in that particular slant of light. “Take care of yourself, Gene.”

Gene forced a smile. “I always do.”

Edward threw one last wave out of the window and glanced in his mirror as he drove away. Gene waved back, a smile still hitched on his face. When Edward turned the corner and the car disappeared, Gene’s shoulders slumped and his smile fell. _Get ahold of yourself,_ he scolded, _you always knew you were never gonna see him again._

And Gene wasn’t sure which hurt more—his hope, or the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it sounds sad, but obviously we know that they absolutely DO see each other again. So it's not that bad...right?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, dear readers, your comments give me life. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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